Nights came
   tralling ghost concertos
   Heartstrings a score of skeletal reaper bows
   Playing torture chamber music allegretto
   Conducting over throes trashed to crescendo
  
   Skinless the dark shall scream
   Hoarse Her symphonies
  
   Deathmashed as the moon
   That had lifted Her dreams
   And frowned on the winding steps down
   To where the vulgar strayed,
   Taunting sick Her tender prey
   She glided in Her bridal gown
  
   How sleep the pure
   Desire in Violent Overture
  
   An emanation of phantom madness
   The Countess beheld in shroud
   By girls bereft of future vows
   Soon to wed in white the frosted ground
   Burning like a brand on the countenance of god
   A yearning took Her hand to His Seraphim, bound
  
   Deep red hissed the cat whips
   On the whim of ill-will
   Whilst She entranced, nonchalant, abliss
   Flayed further songs of overkill
  
   How weep the pure
   Desire in Violent overture
  
   In a crescent-whime cellar of crushed roses
   Pooled blood and broken dolls
   A torchlit shadow theatre souled
   With the echoed cries of lives She stole
  
   Killing time
   She struck the hours dead
   In Her control
   Thus menopaused
   Her clock of hacked out cunts
   Began to toll
  
   "Thirteen chimes of ancient strain
   I conjure forth with dirge
   That fills the void with timbred pain
   To fulfil my sexual urge"
  
   Frights came wailing from the Darkside
   Haunting lipless mouths a fugue of arcane diatribes
   Velvet, their voices coffined Her in slumber
   Bespattered and appeased
   As pregnant skies outside bore thunder
  
   How sleep the pure
   Desire in violent overture
  
   As when high winds
   Attune whipped trees
   Her savage nature pitched
   Would once again conduct the pleas
   Of those She loved to agonies
  
   As if it were
   The first time every night
   That She carved Her seal
   In the flesh of life.